


Tragically Beautiful

by 0101Binaries01010



Category: The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Alcohol, Dallas Winston's Dad, Dallas Winston's Mom, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Just angst, Other, Quote Challenge, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:15:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26093971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0101Binaries01010/pseuds/0101Binaries01010
Summary: “The sky is so tragically beautiful. A graveyard of stars.”I decided that my writing hasn't been that great and I can't do a lot for requests on my Tumblr since I can only really write angst and nothing super happy.If ANY of the tags trigger you, please do not read.
Kudos: 8





	Tragically Beautiful

Whoever first thought the sky is beautiful is dead wrong. 

I've never seen the sky as beautiful, just something that's there and for some reason people like looking at it. 

I remember I used to love the sky, especially during the times when the different symphonies of color would splay out for all to see. I would perch on my roof as I looked up to the sky and prayed to the Gods to get me away. I'd sit on the roof and sometimes sleep there, waking with a deep ache in my bones as I felt them crack and bop as I stretched them back to working condition. 

When my mom wasn't drunk, she would take me to the woods and show me a clearing that she found many years before I was born. It was a beautiful area, the trees all encircling a small meadow that contained varieties of flowers and sometimes herbs. Mint was my favorite. 

We would spend the entire day in that meadow, dancing and chasing each other until one of us would collapse from exhaustion or tackling each other. My mom would get real close to me and whisper apologies, whispering about how she wished she could take me away to Dallas, Texas. That's why she named me Dallas, it was a goal, and I was her constant reminder. 

My mom was a beautiful woman, her sharp cheekbones, and cobalt blue eyes that softened whenever she was around someone she loved. My father was a good looking man, too. His feature sharp with diamond blue eyes. 

While I was growing up, we had numerous people over since my parents were rather friendly (before they turned to alcohol) and I'd overhear their whispers about how I turned out. 

_Elvish_

_Too defined_

_Skinny_

_Cold_

Cold hurt the most. The constant reminder that I would always look mean even though I didn't want to be hanging over my head like moss hanging off a tree. 

When we moved to New York, the whispers just got worse. Whispers of rumors and insults coming from the mouths of people I hadn't ever talked to. They were like ravens, repeating what the other said. 

It's not like home helped, either. My parent's alcoholism just got worse, and along with that, the insults got worse. Curses and vial words that would make a nun flush were thrown my way every day. I learned to live with it, though. The insults fell on deaf ears I grew more and more self-conscious. 

I remember there was one night when I went onto the roof of our shitty apartment building and watched the sunset for the first time. The colors blooming, but they were never as bright and vibrant as Tulsa's. The beautiful symphony of color and shadows was gone. 

After that I got tougher, I moved on. I realized that I will never be treated fairly and I toughened up. I stopped showing emotion, stopped talking, stopped trying. I never cried anymore and I didn't for a long, long, long time. 

The only time I cried was when my mom died. I know it sounds weird since I toughened up and how she was a drunk but I kept thinking about those good times in the forest when we would run around with each other and collect herbs to chew on until we could afford to eat anything. 

I found her in the bathroom, slumped over a toilet, her skin sickly pale and the smell was horrid. I called her name so many times. I remember a scream but I can't tell who it was from, my father or me. 

The funeral was short and the grave was government provided, but I'll always remember where she lays to rest. 

It wasn't long after that when I started cutting myself. The pain felt nice despite the stinging and ripping of the bandages. 

After that, we moved to Tulsa, something I was excited yet terrified of. My father wouldn't care whether or not I died in front of him, but I'll be getting weird stares from people on the street if they see my scars. 

Turns out that a lot of people didn't care much. They've heard of my reputation and didn't fuck with me. 

I lived my life, got friends, got an apartment, and I was having the time of my life. 

Until Johnny died. 

Johnny died right there, right in front of Pony and I. 

I swept his bangs away from his head, something that he could never seem to do in life. 

I ran from the damned hospital.

I ran so hard my lungs hurt and my chest ached, but I kept going.

I remember feeling free. 

I remember letting my hands and feet guide me as I robbed that gas station and felt the numbers of the phone beneath my fingers as I dialed for the gang to come to the lot.

I let my body control when I died.

Because it didn't care now.

None of it did.

I died now, and I finally realized how I could sum up the sky. It took me so long before I realized the grim yet beautiful realization.

The sky is so tragically beautiful. A graveyard of stars.

Its cliche, but it's true. 

No wonder Ponyboy likes it so much. 


End file.
